Love The Sinner
by Coed Showers
Summary: A story that postulates on a deeper relationship between Jesus Christ and John the Baptist; including but not limited to Biblical events. Contains romance between two male characters and a beheading (both non-graphic); reader discretion is advised.


During the summer seasons, it would get very hot in Judea

Love The Sinnerby **Coed Showers**

**Disclaimer & Foreword:** The following story contains scenes of a romantic relationship between two males. If this offends you, then you are not the target audience for this story and probably should terminate your reading at this point. For reference purposes, I have drawn primarily on Matthew, although I have consulted Mark, Luke, John and Leviticus. Some of the dialogue is quotations; footnotes are not provided as the author felt they would disrupt from the flow of the story. If you were to spot any historical errors, please do not hesitate to point them out and I shall attempt to correct them if possible.

***

During the summer seasons, it would get very hot in Judea. John knew this from experience. He had spent many summers on the dirt roads linking village from village in a network spreading from Capernaum to Jerusalem and beyond, looking for something he wasn't even sure existed. He was searching for the one who was awaited, the one who had been prophesied, the one who would deliver all mankind.

In all the years that he had been questing, he hadn't even seen a glimmer of the sign of Judah. He was beginning to think that his holy mission might be no more than a heat-induced hallucination he'd had one day, just like his family had kept telling him before he'd embarked on his journey. He had nothing to show for his years of travel other than worn sandals and a decrepit tunic. He'd nearly killed himself on these dust roads.

One time he'd even been set upon by robbers, which was ridiculous because he had nothing to rob. Angered, the robbers had beaten him half to death and left him moaning on the side of the road. People had passed by and barely afforded him a glance until finally a Samaritan – a Samaritan, of all people! – had deigned to stop, give him to drink and apply some olive oil to his wounds, and paid for a night at an inn. That day had been a revelation in more days than one. John knew what he was fighting for, trudging along on these roads: he was fighting for all the good people out there. At the same time, that day had also taught him an unforgettable lesson in the evils of the human species. Now, more than ever, mankind needed a saviour.

John put his hand against his forehead to block out the light of the sun as he scanned the horizon. No mistaking, there was a village up ahead, the small houses shimmering in the distortion created by the heat. Resolutely, John continued onwards.

The first of these houses he came onto was just on the outskirts of the village. It was a large, flat building with one end opened up to the air and support by thin wooden pillars. Looking inside, John spotted chairs, tables and benches in various states of construction. A carpenter's workplace, obviously. John ducked under the roof of the open area, relieved to finally have the sun off his back. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but it seemed that there was no one in the outer area.

"Hello?" John called out hesitantly.

There was some noise from inside the house, and a man appeared in the doorway. He was in his mid to late twenties, clean-shaven, and topless on this hot afternoon. He must had been working on whatever carpentry he did here recently, because his forehead and torso were still slick with sweat. John noticed absent-mindedly that the man had almost no chest hair and a build with no visible fat or hanging skin. It wasn't the kind of bodies John had seen on gladiators or slave-rowers for the Romans, but John figured that this particular carpenter must be popular with the lady folk nonetheless.

The man smiled as he walked up to John, placing some kind of rag on a table as he passed by. He leaned over a workbench and asked:

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Could you spare a drink of water for a weary traveller?"

The smile faded, replaced by a solemn but not unpleasant expression. "Certainly."

Again, the carpenter disappeared into the back of his house, this time coming out with a ceramic cup that he handed to John. John took the cup in his hands and drank from it, finding the water refreshingly cool. Once he'd taken his draught, John handed the cup back to the carpenter.

"Thank you; you are very kind."

"What kind of man would I be if I did not offer a tired traveller something to drink?"

John thought of all the men who had passed him by on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho, but chose to say nothing. The carpenter continued:

"What are you doing travelling on an afternoon like this, anyway? It's just begging for a sun stroke."

"I travel because I must," John replied. "I am the recipient of divine inspiration, and I cannot rest until I find what I am looking for."

"And what is it that you are looking for?"

John hesitated. Just how much should he reveal to this man? How can he answer that question when he doubts his own quest?

"I'm not sure," John finally said.

The carpenter shook his head. "Only a foolish man searches for something and doesn't know what that is."

"No," John replied softly. "A wise man knows first and foremost than he knows nothing. Only with that admission can the quest for something greater begin."

The carpenter seemed to ponder this. After a few moments, he asked: "Are you a holy man?"

"I am simply a man trying to live his life right."

"What's your name?"

"John."

"John...?"

"Simply John."

"Alright then, Simply John. I am Jesus, son of Joseph. Well met."

"Well met, indeed," John agreed. "What is this village?"

"Nazareth," Jesus answered.

John nodded his head. "I think I have done enough travelling for today. Can you recommend any good inns in this village?"

Jesus chuckled dryly. "I'm afraid that Nazareth is much too small a village to have an inn." Seeing John's obvious disappointment, Jesus quickly added: "But you could stay the night with me, if you wish. My house is big enough."

"Thank you," John said sincerely. "You truly are a generous man."

"What, and pass up the opportunity to have a holy man share my house?" Jesus said, smiling amicably. "As long as there is light, I should continue to work. But you seem tired; why don't you retire to the back. There should be an extra cot behind the curtains."

John thanked Jesus again, and then walked into the cool darkness of the house. Thanks to the illumination of a window set in the wall, he found the extra cot and laid it on the floor. Within seconds of his head touching the cot, John was swallowed up by the darkness of sleep.

***

When John came too again, light was pouring in through the window, but the angle seemed slanted, different from before. John sat up on the cot, his lower back giving a creak in protest.

"Good morning," came a voice from behind him. Turning, John saw Jesus putting a pitcher down on a small table. He was fully robed this time.

"Morning already?"

"Yes," Jesus said, smiling, "You slept right through the rest of the afternoon, the evening and night. You must have really been tired from all your travelling."

"I was," John said. "But I never realized how much."

"It's going to be another scorcher," Jesus said, looking out the window. "The wind is blowing in from the east."

"How strong?" John asked. The last thing he needed was for a sandstorm to crop up.

"Just a breeze, but it's a dry breeze."

John rose from the cot. "Then I should be getting on my way as soon as possible if I want to reach the next village before the afternoon heat sets in."

Jesus shook his head. "Are you sure? It's almost mid-day now, and the closest village is at least two day's walk away. You may be rested, but in this heat you'll be exhausted again long before you reach it. Why don't you stay here instead? At least until this heat wave passes us by and you can travel without worrying about dying of dehydration."

John considered. He had a mission to fulfil, didn't he? Or had it been just a hallucination? Was it really worth it to kill himself over something that might not even be real? And after all, if he did die in the next few days, then he would never find this promised one, would he? Thus, it would be better for everyone if he just stayed here a while - just until the heat wave dissipated.

"Sure, I'll stay."

Jesus smiled. "Great."

John shrugged, as if to say it didn't really matter, but the truth was that now that he'd made his decision, he actually felt much better. He deserved a rest. The world could wait.

***

The next few days went by in a wavy daze for John. Just as Jesus had predicted, it had only gotten hotter. So hot, in fact, that even the sturdy carpenter would only work mornings. During the blazing afternoon, they would sit in the small house, taking occasional sips of water, moving to the open workstation if ever the wind changed direction and began blowing in from the west, from the sea. One day such a wind rose that John thought he could actually smell the salt on the air, but such strong winds made the sand leap up from the ground to whip at their faces, so the two men had been forced inside the small house once again.

Jesus would occasionally go into the main village to fetch supplies - once again, John was stunned by the man's generosity. Not many men would house a traveller in his own house, sharing food and drink with him. The carpenter was a real king among men, in character if not in fact.

Occasionally, when Jesus was working away at whatever small carpentry task the villagers of Nazareth had brought him (it was much too hot for anybody to consider doing renovations or any other kind of work requiring the carpenter to leave his workstation), he would give John a shekel or two and ask that he bring back food and milk. John was honoured by the trust that Jesus showed by giving him the money, even if it was just a couple of shekels.

Even in the heat, the Nazareth marketplace was busy with the cries of vendors and itinerant merchants who, like John, had decided it would be best to lie low in Nazareth until this heat wave ended. The interactions of the villagers reminded John a little painfully of his own home village, where he was now persona non-gratis thanks to his mission.

Later that afternoon, Jesus came upon him leaning against the wall of the house, looking wistfully towards the rest of Nazareth. Once the sun had really begun to beat down, the townsfolk had retreated back into the shadows of their houses, and the merchants had shortly followed suit. Now the marketplace was deserted. The arid wind would occasionally have wisps of sand dance across the empty dirt square.

"Shekel for your thoughts?" Jesus asked.

Startled, John turned around and instantly relaxed once he saw the carpenter's handsome and friendly face.

"I was just looking at the village. Lost in nostalgia, I suppose."

"Home sick?" Jesus asked, no trace of mockery in his voice.

"Perhaps. Which is really foolish, considering I have nothing to go home to." John fell silent, but Jesus did not ask what he meant. John felt relieved that the carpenter knew not to pry if John didn't want to speak, but the unasked question still hung heavy in the air. After all this time with the carpenter, John felt that he owned him at least an explanation.

"My family, they... well, they didn't agree with my chosen path in life. When I told them about my vision, when I told them about my quest... they just looked at me with scorn and laughed. Then, when I had made it amply clear that I intended to go through with this, well..." John shook his head. "They thought I was crazy. At first they tried to hold me back, but towards the end they were just so angry with me for my decision that I think they were actually glad to see me leave."

Jesus nodded sympathetically. "Many people cannot understand religion. If you don't have faith, it sounds like some incoherent babblings of sun-struck fools. I believe in the Books, very strongly."

"And are you ostracized by your relatives for that?"

Jesus chuckled. "Oh, no. My parents, Mary and Joseph, are very kind people. Their belief is so intense it almost burns. But it is a warm fire that animates their spirit, and they have passed on this intensity to myself and my brothers and sisters."

John nodded. "My parents pay their levies, but I've never really gotten the impression that their faith runs any deeper than participating in the ceremonies. My brothers and sisters as well."

"Any wife or children at home?"

"No, no," John chuckled. "For some reason, I never seemed to make the time to find myself a wife and raise a family. Maybe because deep down I knew about this mission of mine all along, and didn't want to fall in love only to have to break her heart when I leave. But what about you, Jesus, son of Joseph? A man as handsome as you must surely be popular with the fair maidens of Nazareth."

"No, I'm still a bachelor, as you can see - much to the frustration of those very maidens. It's not like they haven't tried to get my attention, and they're all very nice women. But..." Jesus shrugged. "I don't know. I keep waiting for 'the one' I guess. To me, love should be something grandiose, you know? Sublime, heavenly, almighty. And I've never felt that way with any of the women of the village." There was a pause. "I suppose there's just no solace for guys like us, eh?"

John mumbled some kind of reply. Again he got this odd feeling of weight, as if there was something unsaid in the air that was dragging them all down. It seemed to constrict around him, making breathing harder, clenching his heart. Finally, he turned back around to face Jesus and say something – anything! – that would lift this weight, but the carpenter was no longer there.

With this realization, John felt relieved, but he couldn't understand why. Even more puzzling was an odd sense of disappointment. 

***

On his seventh evening with the carpenter, John sat on a chair just outside the house, watching the sun as it set into the desert horizon. The sky was marred by thin wisps of clouds that reflected the dying light of the blazing red half-sphere hovering above the horizon, making it seem as if the sky itself was on fire. John thought he could detect a thin line of yellow below a stripe of red, shimmering in the distance, silhouetting the dunes a dark black in comparison.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

John hadn't heard Jesus coming, but was not startled. The show before him filled him with a pleasing sense of serenity. He hadn't been at peace ever since he and the carpenter had talked about their families. The things left unsaid made him ill at ease, and sometimes the tension in the single room that the men slept in was so thick it was palpable.

"It's one of the loveliest things I've ever seen," John said, looking pointedly at Jesus.

The carpenter did not answer, and instead looked out at the desert vista created by the setting sun. John let his gaze linger on his friend's handsome face. Over the past few days, this man had shown nothing but kindness towards him. He was the most generous person John had ever met, to have shared his house, bread and milk with someone who was a total stranger at first. John kept wondering if there might not be something other the carpenter would be willing to share with him.

John looked back at the setting sun. Except for the shimmering caused by the heat of the last warm rays caressing the desert sands, nothing was moving. He didn't hear anything either, not even the crickets who were usually active around twilight. It was as if the entire world had just stopped short to admire in silence the glory of the sunset.

Somehow, John felt that being able to experience something this beautiful with another person created an odd sort of bond. He was reluctant to risk that bond and shatter the illusion of serenity by speaking, but he knew that there would be no better time for what he had to say.

"I've… I've reached a decision."

"Oh?" Jesus said neutrally.

"Yes. I've decided that… I'm no longer going to pursue my 'quest'."

"No?" Still no inflection in the carpenter's voice.

"No. I'm not going to kill myself over something that might not even exist."

"What is this mission of yours, anyway?" It was the first time in the seven days John and Jesus had been together that the carpenter had inquired as to the nature of the John's quest. John appreciated that Jesus had been willing to wait until he was ready to speak about it of his own volition.

"Back in my home village, I was tending to my garden when I heard this great, booming voice that didn't seem to be coming from anywhere in specific but rather from everywhere at once. And this ethereal voice told me that I had to find the Messiah, the Promised One. That I would find the man who would deliver humanity of its sins." John snorted. "Yeah, right. Like any one man could really do that."

"How would you find him? I mean, how were you supposed to recognise him when you met him?"

John looked confused. "You know, never thought of that. I just assumed that when I met him, I'd know. Maybe there would be some kind of sign…" John shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm not entirely certain. I was hoping I could stay here." John looked at Jesus. "With you."

Jesus shifted away from John's gaze. He was silent for a while. Finally, he said: "My house is your house."

"I was also hoping," John said hesitantly, "that your bed would be my bed." There, he'd said it. The weight was gone, replaced by excruciating anxiety as he waited for his would-be companion's reaction. Even though this was nearly instantaneous, the nanoseconds in between stretched out painfully.

"I… I can't. We mustn't."

John was exhilarated. Sure he'd said no, but his reaction clearly showed that he was familiar with the topic. John wasn't the only one who had been feeling something for the other. And John also detected more than a trace of reluctance in the carpenter's words.

"Why not?" John said, not bothering to hide his emotions anymore. They were well beyond that point now, and he knew that this would never work without complete honesty.

"Because we can't. Because it's wrong."

"Says who? The Pharisees and the Sadducees? Look around, Jesus. They're not here. Only we are. You and me."

"But everybody–"

"Forget everybody! I don't care about anybody else but you. Whom do you care for?"

Jesus licked his lips. "It's not right," he said without any great enthusiasm, as if simply repeating a memorized lined.

"Search your feelings. Look into your heart. Do _you think it's wrong?"_

"I… no."

"Then that's all that matters."

"The law says–"

"Never mind that. The love of a man is greater than all the laws of man."

Jesus said nothing. John could feel the tension radiating from him, could see the indecision etched into his handsome face. John felt like pressing the issue, but something held him back. He'd had his say, now he would have to let Jesus decide for himself. He certainly didn't want to coerce the carpenter into a relationship he didn't want. He… loved… him too much for that.

Finally, Jesus turned back towards John. "If this ever gets out…"

"It won't," John replied.

There was another long moment of silent inactivity. Now that the decision had been made, neither one of them was sure how to proceed. Tentatively, John walked up to Jesus and took gazed into his face. The sun had all but disappeared, and the carpenter's face was hidden in shadows. But his eyes shined enough for two suns and more. John closed his own eyes and let his feelings guide him as he moved closer and closer…

He felt a jolt of sensation as his lips finally brushed Jesus'. At first it was just a light contact, but eventually John began pushing forwards, and he could feel Jesus doing the same. The man's lips were dry and a little cracked from the heat, but John felt thrilled at the sense of pressure on his lips and at the feeling of warmth from his partner.

John wasn't sure how long they held this embrace. He felt as if he could spend eternity like this. Finally, though, they parted. John looked into Jesus' eyes, and saw that any residual doubts that the carpenter might have had was gone.

"Let's go inside."

***

The next couple of weeks were for John the happiest he'd ever been, and ever would be. Ever since that fateful night, his relationship with Jesus had just gotten better and better. Gone was any lingering anxiety about what they were doing and the possibility of discovery. If the villagers of Nazareth were wondering why John had been staying with Jesus for such a long period of time now, they didn't say anything about it. And if they had noticed that the carpenter seemed to need a lot more wood wax than usual, they didn't mention this either.

The one fly in the ointment was something that Jesus had said before they'd discovered each other. At the time, John was too concerned over the possibility of rejection to pay much attention, but again and again the phrase raised unbidden in his mind:

_How were you supposed to recognise him when you found him?_

How indeed? This bothered him a great deal. He'd told Jesus that he'd abandoned his mission as being no more than the results of a heat stroke induced hallucination, at and the time he'd meant it. But what if he'd been wrong? What if finding the Messiah truly was his mission. And most importantly: if he didn't find the Promised One, would he come to deliver humanity anyway? By terminating his quest, had he just condemned all mankind?

These questions plagued him even as he lied awake on the cot, Jesus' gentle breathing a rhythmic but ineffectual lullaby. Every time he tried to think of what he'd thought this Messiah would look like and act like, the image of his lover would surface in his thoughts.

At first he thought this was simply the result of his love and co-habitation with Jesus, but soon he began to wonder if it was more than that. After all, wasn't Jesus everything one could hope for in a man? He was kind and generous, perceptive and honest. He'd been travelling the country, searching for a man. Well, he'd found a man, hadn't he? If there truly was no divine sign – and if there were, why wouldn't he have been told? – then any man of character was as good as the next.

No, that wasn't right either. It wouldn't do to have just any average guy be the saviour of all mankind, after all. It had to be someone special. _John thought that Jesus was __very special, but was he really? How would Jesus come off to others?_

John decided that there was only way to really answer that question. He would have to ask others what they thought of the carpenter. He thought of a multitude of excuses for why John would be inquiring as to the character of the man he lived with, but finally decided that the truth, or near-truth, would be the most efficient in this case. He'd claim to be a holy man, on pilgrimage from Jerusalem, and was considering adding Jesus to his retinue – maybe even with a high placed religious office somewhere down the line. At the same time, it would explain to others why he'd been living with the carpenter – an evaluation, of sorts.

And the first person he'd go see would be his mother, Mary. It seemed liked the obvious place to start.

***

John returned from his interview quite shaken up. He'd expected that Mary would give her son a sterling character check, but when he told her that he was a holy man investigating her son, she quickly got excited and pulled him aside before he could give her the rest of his cover story. Then, in a rush of breath, he'd told him that she always knew this day would come. Bewildered, John had asked her why. And she'd told him.

Now, standing in the small house he shared with Jesus, John tried to reconcile what he knew with what he'd just been told. It seemed to fit perfectly. This was, after all, what he'd been searching for all those years on the road. And yet now that he'd finally achieved his goal, he wasn't sure how to proceed. This was becoming a habit, John noted wryly. 

In retrospect, he supposed he must have been quite foolish to ever question his cause. He had managed to convince himself that his inspiration had been nothing but a hallucination, when the very proof of the righteousness of his quest slept besides him. John felt ashamed to have lost faith so close to his goal.

Well, it wasn't a mistake he would make again. Like it or not, he would have to tell Jesus what he now knew and what he now believed in his heart. He had no idea how it might impact his relationship with the carpenter, but he couldn't allow himself to stall or delay because of that selfish reason – not if he was right and the salvation of all mankind now rested on Jesus' shoulders. 

"Good afternoon!" the carpenter cheerfully said as he walked into the small house. Now that the heat had finally gone down, he'd been getting carpenting jobs outside of his workshop, and was often renovating around Nazareth during the cooler mornings. 

John did not answer but simply stood there, his face grim.

"What's wrong?" Jesus asked when he saw his lover's face.

"We need to talk," John said, resigned.

"What's wrong?" Jesus asked again.

"I just talked to your mother-"

"My mother?" Jesus looked incredulous, unable to fathom why he would bring this up.

"Yes.You remember why I came here, right?" John began pacing. "I was on a quest, on a mission to find the Promised One. My goal was nothing less than finding the deliverer of all mankind."

"I thought you had renounced that quest."

"I did. But something this important will transcend the petty wants and desires of mere man. My quest has come back to haunt me again, and I simply cannot ignore it."

"So… are you going to be leaving?" Jesus asked, grief on his face.

"No. I'll never leave you."

"Then I don't understand…"

"You asked me a while ago how I would know when I met the Messiah my vision spoke of. I realised that I didn't. I could have bumped into the guy several times now without realising it."

"What does all this have to do with my mother?"

"I'm getting to that. Now, I believe that I am empowered by a higher power. And I believe that somehow, even through my disbelief, that higher power was guiding me. The road was long and hard, but eventually this higher power has come through."

"How so?"

"Simple. I met you."

It took a moment for what John has just said to sink in. When it did, Jesus' face distorted into a mixture of confusion, incredulity and anger. "You think that I'm your Messiah? You're nuts!"

"I talked to your mother-"

"I can't believe you would seriously-"

"_I talked to your mother. Do you know what she told me? She said that an angel appeared to her and asked her to carry you."_

"Look, my mother-"

"Let me finish. She said that your conception was virginal, that you were implanted into her by something divine, before your parents were married. She said that the night you were born, in a stable in Bethlehem, there was a huge star shining above the stable, and that these three wise men from the east followed the star, claiming that the one who would be born under his auspices would be the king of kings. _You were the reason for Herod's massacre; he was afraid of __you. And it doesn't stop there. Your mother told me that when you were a child you ended up buried in the sand dunes for hours and __survived. When you hadn't even reached the age of your bar mitzvah you were analysing the Books along with the sages of Jerusalem. And didn't the prophets say of the Promised One: 'He will be called a Nazarene?' You seemed to have lived a pretty amazing life to me."_

"Look, John, I love my mother, and I honour her above all others save my father. But sometimes, she gets these ideas that can be a little strange. I'm not saying that she's lying, perish the thought. I'm sure she absolutely believes everything she says. But think about it, really. A virginal conception? More probably I was premature, which is why my birth didn't fit in with the times of conception. My mother wasn't virginal when I was born, I can tell you that. And no one can survive buried under the desert sands for hours. I must have gotten lost as a kid, and I had happened to go under just as my mother came looking for me."

"What about the star, and the three wise men? To what do you attribute your knowledge of the Books?"

"I don't know! Freak weather conditions, a bunch of old guys from the east who got lost. And I know the Books because my parents taught it to me! They're both very religious people." Jesus snorted. "Even my father believes in that whole virgin conception thing."

"Well, there you go! If both your parents say so, then why would it be false?"

"Why are we even talking about this? I'm going to be thirty soon; I'm much to old to believe in these kind of fairy tales!"

"Not fairy tales, Jesus. _Faith. Faith in yourself and in God. Faith in your parents. Faith in me." John moved closer, taking Jesus' hand into his. "Why won't you believe what we tell you?"_

"Why would I?" he replied incredulously. "I am not the Promised One! I am not the Messiah! It's insane, it's preposterous, it's… it's… _heresy!"_

"Heresy," John repeated dryly.

"Yes, heresy. You see, I _do have faith, John. And that faith tells me that it is wrong to parade myself as the God-given saviour of all mankind!"_

"But you are the God-given saviour-"

"No! Don't even say it! I am not going to be party to something like this! I respect the Books, and I respect the law! This is wrong!"

"Wrong?" John scoffed. "Are we wrong, Jesus? Because guess what – the Books say that our being together is wrong."

"No, that's different-"

" 'Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.' "

"Don't quote the Books at me! I'm the child prodigy when it comes to the words of the prophets, remember?"

"Oh, you know the Books. You're just selective about what you follow and what you don't!"

"You know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe it's time I do stop acting like a hypocrite. So maybe you should just pack your things and go!"

Jesus turned halfway, looking as if he was going to stalk off but deciding against it at the last moment. John stood there in abject shock, feeling as if he wanted to make an angry scene and sink into a dark corner at the same time. The carpenter's words were like a death knell, and John thought he felt something inside him wither up and die, appropriately enough.

"Well, then. If that's the way you feel about it, I suppose there's nothing to be done," he said coolly, trying not to let either his rage or anguish seep through.

Jesus didn't answer. He simply stood there, arms crossed above his chest, staring grudgefully at the floor. The silence spoke speeches, however, and it was clear to both that reconciliation was no longer an option.

"Fine," John said, unable to stand the angry silence anymore. He walked over to the small wooden desk and grabbed his bag. Brusquely, he stuffed his few possessions into the bag and flung it over his shoulder. When he returned to the antechamber, Jesus has not so much as shifted.

"Goodbye," John said flatly. He paused to see if this would trigger any response in the carpenter, but the man was like a statue. John turned and walked out of the small house, never looking back.

Five minutes after he'd left, Jesus, certain that John was now well and gone, choked back a sob. This break in his carefully constructed stoic demeanour that he'd presented to his lover – ex-lover, now – caused everything else to come poring out. In all his life, he'd never experienced such a moment of vulnerability and despair. If those who knew him – and those who would, later on – saw him in this state, they'd barely be able to recognise him. Curled up into a foetal position, the carpenter of Nazareth cried himself to sleep.

***

Angry, confused, and most of all feeling a deep sense of loss, John stalked off into the east, towards the desert. He kept thinking that he would simply take on the quest once again; continue his search for the Promised One. Obviously, Jesus had not been he.

And yet even as he told himself this in a fit of fury, he knew it wasn't true. For one thing, had he really intended to start the quest anew, he would be travelling the road. As it was, he was simply walking off into the desert, mindless of any specific destination.

And second, he _knew that he was right. There was doubt about it in his mind. The time he'd spent with Jesus, and what she'd been told by Mary, his mother, proved to him beyond the shadow of doubt that Jesus was the Promised One, the Christ._

***

"Aren't we not all the sons of Abraham?" the Pharisee asked contemptibly. "Salvation is in our blood, not in the water."

John couldn't estimate how long he'd been out in the desert – not exactly. He'd counted forty days and forty nights, but after that he simply no longer cared. He knew he should have died a long time, but for the grace of God. Apparently, God still had some kind of purpose in store for him despite his failure with Christ, because He'd guided John to the river Jordan. John, at this point starved and dehydrated, had found the water where none had been before, and it had been his salvation. In turn, others now came to him, seeking their own salvation in the water.

"You and your kinsmen are nothing but a brood of vipers," John accused the Pharisee, remembering how it was their laws that had struck the final nail on the coffin containing his relationship with Jesus. "Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?"

"What coming wrath?" the Pharisee replied offhand, seeming completely unconcerned.

"Don't act so flippant with me, not here," John admonished. "You may not know it yet, but I tell you that the axe of God is poised at the bottom of the tree that is every man. And if God finds you unworthy, then He will not hesitate to strike you down. You think that being the son of Abraham will help you? I tell you this: God is all-powerful, and he could create more sons of Abraham from that pile of stone there." John pointed towards a gully. "I'd wager they be more worthy than any of the people here."

"What should we do?" someone cried out from the crowd.

John couldn't really understand why there was a crowd at all. After all this time in the desert, his clothes are been ripped and torn so much that all he had left from his original bundle was a leather belt. Instead, he'd fashioned crude garments from the hair of camels. His diet consisted of locust and wild honey. He doubted he was altogether pleasant to look at, despite bathing regularly in the Jordan.

But here was a sign of the times, of the soul ache felt by all mankind. When common folk had heard that there was a hermit living wild in the desert by the Jordan, they'd jumped to the conclusion that he was a prophet or holy man. Many had come to him asking if he was the Messiah or Elijah, and despite his assurances to the contrary, more and more people kept coming, seeking some kind of wisdom and repentance like the ones before him now.

"It's simple," John told them, thinking back on his time with Jesus. "Be the best men you can. If you have two tunics and another man has none, share with him. Same thing goes for food, lodging, and anything else."

"Give them our cloth and food? For free?" a tax collector asked.

"Yes, for free. For Moses lay down the law, but the Promised One will teach grace. You, tax collector, never take more than what you are allotted." John glanced at the crowd, a spotted a few men in soldiers' uniform. "You, the soldiers. Don't extort money and don't accuse people falsely. Be content with your pay."

"What if we've already sinned?" someone asked. "What can we do to repent?"

This was an old tune, one John had heard before. "Come to me, into the water," he told the crowd. One by one, the men lined up and kneeled at his feet in the Jordan. John would cup the water in his hands and splash it onto their foreheads. Every time he'd say: "I baptized you with water for repentance. But soon will come one more powerful than I am, one whose sandals I am not fit to carry, and he will baptize you not with water but with fire, the very burning flame of the Holy Spirit."

And so it went on, until one day…

***

Jesus was buying milk and bread at Nazareth's central square when he overheard two merchants speaking of someone they called "John the Baptist". The name brought an unwanted pang of loneliness to his heart, because it reminded him of his own John. Ever since he left after the fight, Jesus found that he'd been unable to regain is usual buoyancy. Everyone in town said that he looked so serious now.

Curious, Jesus walked up to the merchant and asked: "Who is this man you speak of?"

"Have you not heard? There's a prophet out in the desert, by the river Jordan. I've heard that he spends his time baptizing pilgrims in water, and that he cries out: 'Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him!' Some say that it is then Christ, the Saviour, finally come amongst us again."

In the merchant's eyes was such a dreadful longing, a mixture of hope but careful cynicism, that Jesus had to look away. John had been right; the people needed a saviour now more than ever. And Jesus the more Jesus thought about it on his way home, the more he began asking himself whether this "John the Baptist", preaching out in the desert, might in fact be _his John._

At first he ignored the idea, thinking that it was too much of a coincidence, and besides, he certainly didn't want to go out into the desert. It was hot, dangerous, and he had a business to look after. But as the days rolled by, the idea kept rising to the top of his thoughts, speaking with a voice of it's own. In the end, it became so insistent that Jesus knew he had to go out to the Jordan, if only to assure himself of the prophet's identity one way or another.

The trip itself was unpleasant. In his obsession with the so-called John the Baptist, he'd poorly planned out his trip, and didn't bring enough with him. The sun scorched the exposed areas of his skin, and he had to ration his food and water because he quickly realised he wouldn't have enough for the full trip.

He was tired and ragged when he finally arrived by the Jordan, and a coarse matting of beard stubble graced his cheeks and chin. A crowd mulled quietly on the riverbank, and Jesus made his way through them to the shore. There he saw a man, dressed in rags and ill kept, but definitely his John. Jesus felt a mixture of elation and dread, joyful to have finally found John again, but uncertain what his reception would be like considering how they had parted. Even as Jesus contemplated this, he could still feel an ember or two of his rage at John's heresy burning in the pit of his stomach.

Taking his courage into his hands, Jesus walked out of the crowd and into the shallow waters of the Jordan towards John. It took a moment for the Baptist to recognize him because he looked so much different from the clean-shaven carpenter he had known in Nazareth.

John at first felt relief that he had not failed in his mission after all. It looked as if the Lamb of God had found his way onto the right path. But despite this, he still felt a good deal of resentment over the way Jesus had snubbed him, and then thrown him out. The wound that had been opened that day was one that had not been healed by waters of the Jordan, and seeing the carpenter walking out towards him, he felt once again the sharp pain of loss. He knew it was unworthy to think anything ill of the man who would save all mankind, but he couldn't help what he felt.

Jesus stopped when he finally reached John's height. Then he bent down on one knee, like he had seen others do, and presented his forehead to the man standing in the river.

John seemed incredulous, as if this had been the thing he least expected. He stammered: "I need to be baptized by you, and you come to me?!"

"Let it be so now," Jesus replied, eager to find some kind of closure. "It is proper for us to do this to fulfil all righteousness."

John wondered what exactly the carpenter meant by those words. Did he seek reunion? John didn't think he'd be able to forgive the carpenter for breaking his heart. But finally he consented, thinking that it was better to at least try and do something, even if the end result is not one he would have desired.

John reached down into the Jordan, cupping the water in his hands. He anointed his ex-lover's forehead. He stood back and waited.

Jesus still knelt in the water. The touch of John's hands against his skin had felt good, very good. It was obvious that love still existed somewhere. But every time he tried to summon it forth, he remembered the preposterous claims that John had made. Even now, after Jesus had travelled all this distance to see John again, the so-called holy man had persisted in his delusion by saying that Jesus should be the one to baptize him. How could he ever be able to live with a man like that? A man who not only worshipped him, but saw him as the Messiah of all other men.

Jesus rose, his decision made. He still loved John, there could be no doubt about that. But as mates, they were incompatible.

As Jesus walked towards the edge of the river, he felt something stir inside of him. He realized that although he had blamed John for ending their relationship, he no longer held that against him. In fact, this new emotion he felt could only be described as… as a kind of forgiveness. John had transgressed again the law, but Jesus still couldn't bring himself to hate him. He hated the sin, but loved the sinner.

Whatever Jesus would have done next what never to be known. As he reached the side of the river, he felt a shaft of bright light fall upon him. Looking up reflexively, he saw the previously cloudy sky part to reveal a light glowing even brighter than the sun itself. The shaft of light was soft but crackling with energy, loving but powerful, and to Jesus it looked as if both a dove and a bolt of lightening were descending on him.

The light was blinding and dizzying, and Jesus felt vertigo come over him. And yet through all this, he thought he heard a booming voice pronounce:

"This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased."

Then the clouds moved again, and there was no more shaft of light. There was only Jesus, kneeling in the water, panting as if he'd just gone through some kind of arduous exercise regimen. The crowd around the Jordan and the man in the river were staring at him in puzzlement.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" John the Baptist asked cautiously.

"A voice… I though I heard a voice…" Jesus looked around him, realising that everybody was staring at him like some kind of bizarre insect.

Jesus looked bewildering as he turned several times in place. Finally, his gaze settled upon the desert, and he began walking because it seemed like the only rational thing to do.

One of the young men in the crowd began walking after him, intent on turning him back, but John emerged from the Jordan and placed a restraining hand on the young man's shoulder. "You must not intervene."

"But he is delusional. We must stop him before he hurts himself."

"No, this is what he must do. I have reached the end of my quest, but his is only beginning." John looked sadly at the receding figure of Jesus walking over a nearby dune. Despite all the bad blood that had come between him, John silently wished the carpenter good luck in whatever trials that awaited him.

***

What became of Jesus after that, John could not know. It had been two weeks since the carpenter had disappeared into the desert, and while most had given him up for dead, John knew that this was not so. It could not be so, because he believed firmly that Jesus of Nazareth was the promised Messiah.

John the Baptist had abandoned his post by the river Jordan, figuring that now that Jesus had come and been baptized, his purpose there had been fulfilled. Instead, he came out of the desert and into Galilee, still in his camelhair clothes, preaching to everyone that they should make ready because the Kingdom of God was upon them, and that the Saviour would soon be among them.

He quickly gained popularity among the people of Galilee, who flocked to him en masse to hear him preach. Soon John had found himself being invited into the houses of noblemen and Roman functionaries, asking for his counsel in matters of law and theology. John accepted all these invitations, knowing that each person he spoke to was a potential convert to the new way that Jesus would preach. John hoped that by priming the people, Jesus would have an easier task when – and not if – he came out of the desert.

And so it came to pass that John found himself in the household of the tetrarch himself, Herod. The tetrarch had thrown a sumptuous banquet, and invited most of the notables in the region – including, it appeared, the Jewish prophet that the people called John the Baptist.

John did not partake in the rich foods presented to him, and watched the entertainment with a detached gaze. His time on the road and in the desert had taught him that these material goods were really of no important in the long wrong. John simply waited for the chance to speak to the illustrious crowd. Were he able to make converts amongst their numbers, Jesus would have the support of a few powerful people. Again, it would make his task an easier one.

During the feast, Herod struck his knife against his crystal chalice, the gentle ringing quickly bringing silence to the room. Once he was sure that he had caught everyone's attention, Herod spoke:

"I have invited you all here to share in my food and drink because I have an announcement to make. I am pleased to announce that I have asked for the hand of Herodias, my brother Phillip's wife, in marriage. My good brother has agreed to bow down to my wishes, of course, and the marriage will be soon celebrated."

Herod's words were met with a chorus of applause celebrating the tetrarch's latest conquest, but John the Baptist was silent. He knew that the Books said that it was wrong to take the wife of one's brother. Then again, the Books had also said that his relationship with the carpenter of Nazareth was wrong, which it most certainly was not. John was torn between what he should believe.

Finally, he looked straight at Herod. The man was laughing along with his guest; cheeks flushed red by the wine. His belly, nourished by rich foods, created a protrusion in the tetrarch's white toga. Looking at the man, John knew that he was not marrying Herodias out of love, as he had violated the Books with Jesus, but out of lust and lechery.

John realised that it was not the word of the law that mattered as much as it was the spirit of the law. Love should be celebrated in all its forms. Sin should be abhorred in all its forms. Those were laws greater than any mortal man could write.

John stood, faced Herod, and cried out over the noise: "It is not lawful for you to have her!"

At once, the gathered guests fell silent. Herod stood and met John's gaze. "What did you say to me, Jew?"

"I said that it is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife. It is a sin before God."

If Herod's cheeks had been red from vine before, now they were red with outrage, his jowls shook as he pointed and commanded: "Guards! Throw that impudent into the prisons."

As a pair of armoured Roman soldiers seized John on either side, one of Herod's aides sneaked up to him and whispered in his ear: "Your Lordship, it would not be wise to have this one executed. The locals seem to regard him as some kind of holy man."

As the possible political ramifications of his actions sunk in, Herod left his seat at the table and walked towards John and the guards, who stopped when they saw Herod coming.

"I am merciful, and will spare your life. But for your insolence," Herod spat, "I sentence you to spend as much time as I see fit in my gaols. Take him away."

Herod waived the soldiers away and John found himself once again being dragged off across the marble floor.

***

Word of the arrest of John the Baptist spread quickly through Galilee. Eventually it came to be known by a man sitting in the desert, attended by a convent of angels. This man was Jesus the carpenter, though those who had known him as such would hardly recognise him now. The previously clean-shaved man had let his beard and hair grow long. And he carried about him an air of serenity that would rattle even the sturdiest of men.

Once this news had reached his ears, he left the desert, knowing that the time had come for him to preach the new ways to the masses.

He quickly gathered a following and disciples, fishers mostly, and began to preach to them the new ways to replace the old: love thy fellow man, do unto others as you would want them to do unto others, judge not lest ye be judge, turn the other cheek…

Soon Jesus had acquired and even greater following than John the Baptist had ever had. John heard of this in his prisoner cell, where Herod had allowed disciples and pilgrims to visit the holy man.

Two of those disciples he dispatched to find Jesus. They found the carpenter turned Messiah after he had just finished giving an address to yet another crowd. Dutifully, they repeated the message that John had entrusted them with: "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"

Jesus smiled to himself, recognising his former lover's dry sense of humour in the last line. John wanted to know whether Jesus had finally come to accept his role as the saviour.

"Go back and report to John what you see and hear," Jesus said. "The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor." 

Jesus paused, then added with a hint of sadness: "Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me." Jesus hoped that John would understand what the carpenter meant by these words. Jesus experienced great regret for what he had done to John. He had, in effect, driven John away from him because of his own stubborn refusal to have faith and accept the truth. Now that he had been enlightened, Jesus saw how truly wrong he had been, and wanted to express his apologies to the prophet. It was Jesus' fondest wish that John would be able to forgive him and that the two of them would be reunited once John was released from jail. 

As the two disciplines turned to bring the message back to their master, Jesus faced the crowd again. The communiqué from John left him elated, and he wanted to share his love with the others.

"You have all heard of John, the one called the Baptist. Many of you had seen him in the desert, and were surprised at his clothes and diet. Many said that he had a demon" Jesus shook his head in faint amusement, remembering his own forty-day fast in the desert. He had also not been eaten or drinking, but in his case a demon actually had come. 

"Had you come out to the Jordan to see a man dressed in fine clothes? No, you find those in the palaces of kings. Then what did you go out to see? A prophet, yes, but much more than a prophet." Much more, Jesus repeated to himself. A friend, a companion, a lover.

"This was the one of whom it is written: 'I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you'. I tell you the truth: Among those born of women there had not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist." Nor man or woman, Jesus thought to himself. 

He thought again of John, of his lover's greatness, and, smiling, continued to preach.

***

Herodias shook her head at her daughter. The young girl was one of the best dancers she's ever seen, but lacked any form of political astuteness.

"I simply don't understand why you would want to marry Uncle Herod," she said again.

"Think, daughter, think," Herodias said. "Your father is the tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, which are not important provinces in the Empire, either for people or resources. Your uncle, on the other hand, is tetrarch of Galilee, and has risen to prominence in Pilate's court for the fisheries it produces. The power he wields is great and if I was to become his wife, I would also be able to access that power, if somewhat indirectly."

"But why wait? Who cares what a silly Jew from the desert thinks?"

"It's a message, you see. By executing that filth, we can send out a clear message that the power of Rome, and therefore the power of the governor, is one that rises above the power of their god. Our gods are stronger, our Rome is stronger, and the locals need to be taught that they cannot presume to pass judgement on us – or they will suffer the consequences."

Herodias' daughter shook her head, her smooth brow furrowed. "I still don't understand."

"It is not necessary for you to understand. Only for you to dance well."

The sounds of trumpets announced that the festivities were about to commence. "Come, let us go now."

This banquet was an even more regal affair than the one where John the Baptist had been arrested. This time, Herod was celebrating his birthday, and all the politicos of the region were in attendance to offer their congratulations and maybe get into the tetrarch's good graces.

The food was rich, and Herodias, sitting next to her brother-in-law, made sure he consumed plenty of wine. Soon, Herod was laughing raucously at the slightest provocation, making grand gestures with his chalice and spilling wine onto the white tablecloth.

When she felt that the time was right, Herodias told her daughter to go dance before the crowd. After being announced, her daughter began her routine. She was marvellously fluid, nimble and agile. Her movements were graceful, and soon she had the entire audience entranced with her gestures. When she finished almost twenty minutes later, her face was still composed, her breathing regular, her beauty uncompromised. The gathered crowd immediately broke into peals of applause and shouted congratulations.

Herod himself stood up, chalice still in hand, and said: "My nice, your dancing has delighted me beyond all I thought possible. Ask me for anything you want, and I'll give it to you. In fact, I hereby swear an oath that whatever you ask I will give to you, up to half my kingdom!"

Several of the guests let out startled gasps. An oath was not something the tetrarch could go back upon, not if he wanted to keep his honour and therefore his position as tetrarch.

Herodias saw her daughter's eyes flick towards her inquiringly, and she nodded solemnly. She had instructed her daughter on what she should ask of her uncle, and this opportunity was perfect.

"I want you to give me right now the head of John the Baptist on a platter."

Herod dropped down into his seat heavily, feeling the effects of the wine quickly fading from his mind. If he were to execute the holy man, he would anger the locals. But he had sworn an oath, in front of guests, no less! He had no choice in the matter.

Herod summoned one of his executioners to him, and relayed his others to the man. Half an hour later, the executioner returned. He had with him a silvery platter upon which rested the truncated head of John the Baptist.

***

Jesus was preaching near Bethsaida when he saw the grief-stricken young man in the simple clothes of a disciple. He fell silent and waited for the disciple to make his way through the throng of townsfolk.

When he finally reached Jesus' height, he said: "Lord, I come bearing evil news. John the Baptist was beheaded by Herod yesterday."

The news was like a hammer blow to Jesus, who had been planning on reunited with his former lover once he was freed. Now this was impossible. Never again would he see the face he's grown to love. Never again would he talk to the man who showed him the way. Never again would he feel that kind of love for a mortal man.

Solemnly, Jesus walked over to his twelve apostles. "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place, and get some rest," he told them.

"I know of a solitary isle one can get too by boat," Simon said.

"Take me there," Jesus instructed. 

Jesus was silent after that, walking to the pier and on the waters. The death of his friend, his lover, was absolutely devastating. John the Baptist had been like a teacher, a brother, and a partner to Jesus. It was like losing an entire family all at once.

The boat glided across the waters in respectful silence. A hole had been opened up in the very fabric of existence without John there to provide some kind of counterbalance. The prophet from the desert had been with Jesus from even before his quest had been revealed to him. It felt strange to continue on preaching in a world without John the Baptist.

Because this was not a good world, not at all. A world where a man such as John would be callously executed was an evil world. It was not one worthy of such a great man's very presence. It was a dark world, consumed by greed, pettiness, arrogance and hatred.

It was a world in desperate need of a saviour.

Jesus realised that the death of John the Baptist was, in a way, the very reason he had been placed on this world. These were dark times, and in times of darkness one needs the light. He was the light. And looking within himself, he found that he could not turn his light away from the rest of mankind, to condemn them to the eternal darkness – no matter what they did to him. Even in death, he would continue to fight to save the people trapped in the darkness. It was the only way to ensure that one day, people like John the Baptist would not need fear for their lives. One day, this will be a better world.

He'd loved John, and will continue to love him forever. To abandon the mission at this point would be to waste all that John had done for him, to denigrate his very death. Jesus swore to himself that he would never do so. The light must be brought. As he had loved John, now he would have to embrace and love each and every mortal man in this world.

He ordered Simon to take him back to the shore. There, he was surprised to find a large crowd of people gathered on the shore. One of his apostles quickly explained that they had come from all the nearby towns when they had heard that the Messiah was on the move.

Jesus looked again at the crowd, standing in respectful silence, waiting for him to speak. If all of these people were willing to leave their homes and come to this remote place just to hear him speak the good word, then perhaps there was hope for this world after all. John had not died in vain.

"Lord, you must send them back to their village," Thomas said. "Supper time quickly approaches, and they are far from their homes."

"They do not need to go away," Jesus answered. "You give them something to eat."

"We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish."

"Bring them here to me," he replied. As he disciples walked off to fetch the food, Jesus was imbued with a sense of purpose. He knew now what he had to do. A wondrous feat, one that would show that all those who followed him would ultimately be taken care of. He had a crowd to feed. He had a light to bring to the world and cast away darkness. And he had the memory of a lover to commemorate.


End file.
